


Navigating the Absence

by MCUsic_to_my_ears



Series: Avengers Pride Month 2019 [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, College, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Get Together, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, MIT, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker in Love, Peter Parker is a Mess, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Pride, Pride Parades, QPRs, Slow Burn, Swimming, Trans Character, Trans Peter Parker, Video Game Mechanics, queer platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/pseuds/MCUsic_to_my_ears
Summary: Peter and Harley slowly become an unconventional us.





	Navigating the Absence

“I’m fine, May. Promise,” Peter assured his aunt, each breath carefully measured, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. His thoughts stuttered. 

“Alright, dear. I love you.” 

“Love you,” Peter ground out, quickly hanging up. As soon as he call disconnected, his control plummeted. Heart pounding, he slid down to the floor. Air heaved out of his lungs. Briefly, his mind supplied  _ hypertonic solution _ before returning to its litany of  _ run, hide. Go, Mr. Stark, where-? Don’t want to- _

“Whoa.” 

Hands on his shoulders. Peter jerked away. 

"Peter? I- I know you don't know me, but I want to help you. What can I do?" 

Peter clawed out at the person speaking, hyper-awareness jolting through his veins. He swore he could hear each blood cell bump against another. "Loud," he finally bit out. "Gotta-" Something was smothering his ears, skin grating against skin. Hands, if the second thundering heartbeat was anything to go by. He must've done something, because then the hands were gone. The heartbeat retreated for a few minutes, panic swirling around Peter, every movement made, every word spoken erupting in his ears before blazing across his skin like a thousand fire ants biting into him. Then the heart was back in full force, voice silent, then everything silent. Something trapping his mind, jamming his signals. He reached out, the air sharp. His body still had borders. 

Then, "Peter.

"Peter, is that better?" 

_ Better? Quieter, yes? _ He nodded, head light, senses fizzling out. The dust particles were ceasing to pound against his skin. He peeled his eyes open, blinking against the harsh light. It diminished. "Who-?" He tried to focus on the figure blocking the light. Everything was fuzzy.  _ Sensory overload, _ he diagnosed.  _ Bad one. Meltdown. Panic attack. Stupid.  _

"I'm Harley Keener. FRIDAY told me something was wrong, so I came." 

Peter squinted. "Why you?"  _ No, bad. Bad Peter, be nice.  _ "I mean- sorry- not, I-"

Harley laughed. "It's not a problem. I- I understand. Just take a minute to cool down." 

Peter nodded. That made sense. No need to question it.  _ Sensory overload compounded with Mr- the funeral. Simple cause and effect. Not irrational, not stupid.  _ "-at the funeral?" he found himself asking.  _ Bad,  _ his brain supplied. 

"I, um. Yeah. Tony was- I mean, I was there." 

**_Bad,_ ** Peter's brain repeated. "Sorry," he mumbled. 

"Don't be. Let's- I'll take you to your room, yeah? You're probably tired." Nothing to argue with there. 

***

Peter mentally cursed himself for not turning around sooner, frantically hit 'B' in an attempt to save what was left of his base. "Harley, cover me!" he hollered, running his character away from the assailants. Over the headset, several people harrassed Peter for yelling at someone he was in the same room as, and Harley rolled his eyes at his friend. 

"You get way too into this game, Pete," he laughed as Peter's character died on screen. Peter pouted, setting down his controller to watch Harley's take out several infiltrators. 

Peter blushed, shaking his head. "It's really cathartic," he mumbled. 

_ Get a room! _ Aaron, their captain, goaded somewhere in Texas, causing several of their teammates to laugh as they continued to retake the land that Peter had lost. It was Harley's turn to blush then. Unfocused, the brunette was shot almost immediately. He dropped his controller and shut his laptop screen, not signing off. Concerned, Peter did the same. In the silence of the room, he latched on to Harley's discomfort. 

He bit his lip. "Was, um, was it something I said?" 

Harley looked at Peter in confusion. "No. Pete, you could never-" He shook his head. "It was the 'get the room' thing. That stuff still gets to me. It's dumb, I know."

Peter moved closer on the couch. "Can I ask why? If you want, you don't have to answer," the smaller teen promised. 

Harley studied Peter for a long moment, searching his face for anything but the honesty and openness that poured off it. Peter waited. Finally, Harley nodded. "I'm asexual." 

Peter blinked.  _ Abort mission, _ Harley panicked.  _ Get out now. Peter's living room is not the place to come out to your crush. Abort. _ Then, Peter smiled. "That was not what I was expecting," he mused, tucking his legs onto the couch. Before Harley could start babbling, Peter interrupted, "Because I am too. 'Like finds like,' as they say. I'm ace-aro," he clarified. "Woo." He laughed a little at his weak enthusiasm, but stilled at the shock on Harley's face. "I'm not exactly surprised," Peter continued, rushing his words a little to reassure his friend. "That you're ace. You don't talk about anyone like that, which sure, it isn't requisite for being allo, but like, even Ned does sometimes, even though he knows it makes me uncomfortable." Peter shrugged, brushing at his hair a little self consciously. "Gonna say something?" he asked. 

That seemed to shake Harley out of it. "I'm… not," he finally mumbled. Peter looked at him, confused. "Um, ace. I mean, I'm a-spec. I just tell people I'm ace because it's the most recognizable term, but I'm actually gray-ace. For the record. You're the first person that I don't have to define that for them." He grinned, blushing. "I'm homoromantic too," he added.  _ And I have a massive crush slash squish on you but you don't need to know. _ "Are you- are you repulsed? For either?" 

"Ace yeah, aro no. There's just a lack of attraction for aro, which sucks because I find a lot of romantic gestures aesthetically appealing." He shrugged. 

"But you're not demi?" 

Peter shook his head, smiling. "Nope." 

Harley bit his lip. "Okay." He glanced back at his laptop. "Do you want to keep playing?" 

Peter beamed, "Let's go for it." 

***

Autumn was approaching, fresh leaves spilling over the paths that spread through the forest like veins. Along one of these worn down trails, Harley and Peter walked toward a lake on the far side of the Stark property. Not the lake where the funeral was held, but instead a smaller, more isolated spot of water. No chance of Morgan stumbling upon them, or any other revolving Avenger tag-a-long that never seemed to leave the pair alone for too long. Peter reasserted his grip on his towel as they approached the water. “I um…” Peter swallowed. “Before we get there, I should. I just. I have these scars, on my chest.”

“Oh.”

“They’re from transition surgery,” Peter supplied quickly, looking everywhere but Harley’s face, who had stopped walking. “I’m- I’m trans. I didn’t want to tell you before because I didn’t want to weird you out and I-”

"Peter, I know." 

"What?" 

Harley sighed. "Pepper told me. She saw that we were getting close and she didn't want me to say anything to ruin it, so… She told me." 

"Oh." Peter bit his lip. "That's okay, I guess." They began walking again. 

“Also, kind of offended that even after I came out aspec, you still didn’t think I’d be supportive of your real gender,” Harley assured his friend as they arrived at the lake. 

“I didn’t want to assume.” Harley laughed at him, slipping off his shirt and into the water. 

“Sometimes looking like an ass is okay, Parker.” Harley splashed Peter as best he could, actually managing to get some of his chest wet. 

“Hey!”  _ You think you can get away with that, Keener! _ Peter jumped into the pool, spattering Harley with water. Their splash fight was soon over, laughter filling the air as they continued to relax in the lake. 

***

_ This is unfair, _ Harley frowned, watching an exhausted Peter type furiously on his laptop. 

“You’re going to wear out the keys,” Harley announced. 

“This is due in-” He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.” _ That’s kind of an excuse. _

“When was it assigned?”   
“Three weeks ago.”  _ That’s not.  _

Harley sat beside Peter on the bed. “Well… I’m leaving in the morning.” Peter glanced up from his screen. “And I just… wanted to say goodbye. I guess.” Peter bit his lip, nodding at his own internal monologue. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” He shut his laptop. 

“That’s due-”

“Fifteen minutes. I know.” He ran a hand through his hair.  _ Dang it, Peter, no more fodder for the crush-squish-thing. We agreed. Well… I agreed. You existed.  _ “You’re more important.”  _ Rude.  _

***

"Hey." Harley pretended he was sleeping. 

"Hey, Harley." He was poked in the side. "I know you're awake. I can hear your heartbeat. It's too fast for you to be asleep." 

"Bullshit," Harley mumbled.  _ At least he doesn't think I'm Spider-man, _ Peter mused. 

"Yeah, but you still admitted to being up." Peter sat on the edge of Harley's bed. "It's three, Harley," he whispered. "You left Disney time early last night. Morgan was really upset."  _ She cried for almost thirty minutes when she realized you weren't going to be there to read her a bedtime story. Especially since we've been at school for months and we're only here for a week.  _

Harley shrugged, pulling his comforter over his head. "Tired." 

"Depressed," Peter corrected, sighing.  _ God, too strong, Parker, chill.  _ "You've been hiding it all week, but it's getting bad, isn't it?" 

"I's the weather," he admitted softly. 

Peter placed a hand on Harley's back, biting his lip. "Seasonal depression?" 

"Not seasonal."

_ Oh god.  _ "Okay." Peter closed his eyes. "What can I do to help?" Harley shrugged again.  _ Come on, Harley, work with me here. _ "Would you rather shower or straighten up your room?" Harley hid his face in his pillow, grumbling. "H, come on…" Peter frowned. "Pick one."  _ I know it feels hard.  _

"Shower," Harley surrendered, allowing Peter to steal his blankets in order to further prompt his friend out of bed. 

_ Thank you.  _ "Thank you." After Harley was sufficiently prepared to shower, Peter left him in the bathroom, sitting outside to allow himself to listen, even though he would be able to hear from half a mile away. When the water shut off thirty minutes later, Peter busied himself with cleaning up Harley's room as much as he could without being too obvious. Harley wouldn't really appreciate feeling like a charity case.  _ Which you're not, _ Peter grumbled mentally. 

"Let's go outside," Peter suggested when Harley returned to his bedroom. 

"It's cold." 

"It's the warmest time of day though."  _ Please.  _

"Fine." 

_ Yay.  _ "Let's go!" 

Harley was correct, it was fairly cold outside, but the sun was still bright. Once they were safely inside the forest, Peter took Harley's hand in his own.  _ Only because he's having a bad day. _ Of course, Peter knew that was a lie. 

***

Despite their busy schedules in their senior year, Peter and Harley both cleared a Saturday afternoon in late November to meet at a run down pizza place in New York. Harley, of course, was freaking out.  _ Not a date. Because we're both aspec. So we can't have dates. Nope, none. Zero. Peter has no attraction towards anyone, let alone you. Friends can hold hands, cuddle, whatever. Totally fine. No romantic feelings at all. Only aesthetic. Woo. _

Harley got there first, even though Peter was the one who lived in the city. This wasn’t a surprise, since Peter was notoriously late to everything. Harley ordered them himself a Coke and Peter a pink lemonade. He bumbled around on Instagram for a while, thanking the waitress when she placed their drinks on the table. When Peter tripped inside several minutes later. Following a brief hug and Peter’s gratitude for Harley remembering his preferred drink, they sat down, different sides of the torn booth, even though it felt wrong. 

A few minutes of bantering before they could order (a house salad to split and a medium pizza, half pepperoni, half pineapple,  _ because Peter’s weird like that).  _ At some point after the salad appears but before the pizza, their fingers found each other rested on the table. Harley regarded their hands,  _ Just say it. You have nothing to lose. Except Peter. But, Peter wouldn’t- just say it.  _ “This isn’t a normal friendship, is it?” Peter looked up. Harley swallowed and continued. “I thought we were brothers, or something like that, but… it’s more, right? I’m not crazy?”

“Never,” Peter responded immediately, peering into Harley’s eyes. “Doesn’t matter what it is. Just that  _ it is. _ We’ll figure out the rest.”

“Can I say that I love you?”

“So long as you mean it.” Peter’s smile turned shy. “I love you too.”

***

“I don’t think hitting refresh is helping.”

“Blasphemy!” 

Harley rolled his eyes. Peter clicked refresh again to prove his point. “Heck.”

“What?”

“It’s there.”  _ Holy crap holy crap holy- _

“Wasn’t the goal?” He played it cool, but Peter could see the anxiety in his eyes as he opened his own email. 

“But I didn’t expect it to work!”  _ Holy sweet baby Jesus. Don’t click on it yet, wait for Harley. Don’t be a dingus. Happy thoughts, Parker. Happy thoughts only.  _

_ Mr. Stark isn’t here to get you through a back door, _ one part of his mind argued. 

_ Mr. Stark would say I don’t need it. So there, Karen. _

“Ready?” Harley asked. 

Peter nodded, eyes wide. Together, they clicked on their individual emails from the MIT admissions office.  _ You’re not gonna get-  _ “Holy fricking crap! Oh my- Harley are you-?” 

Harley nodded vigorously, shock on his face. 

***

A quiet murmur of excitement echoed throughout the bar. Holding hands at their high-top table, the pair couldn’t help but join in in the competitive nature. 

“Get ready for me to wipe the floor with you, Parker,” Harley boasted, grinning. 

Peter snorted, not taking his eyes off of the slideshow of the previous GSA events. “When did you join Tumblr again?” he asked dryly. “This year?” He laughed. “I’m going to cream you.”

Betty Brandt, a senior on the GSA leadership board, handed the pair an answer sheet. 

“Can we get one more please?” Peter requested, a goofy grin on his face. She rolled her eyes at the couple before handing Harley a slip. 

“Even Betty thinks you can’t do it without me,” Peter teased.  _ Rude. Also, Betty: rude.  _

Harley fiddled with Peter’s bracelet for a moment before the MC interrupted all conversation with his introduction of the event. 

“Not a chance, Spidey.”

Peter blushed, swatting at him. “Not here.” 

“Sure.” 

A sound cue later and the first question was announced: “Who founded Pride?”

Peter was already writing.  _ Oh crap. Maybe I do need to spend more time on Tumblr.  _

***

Their breaks between Peter’s chemical engineering lab and his final English credit and Harley’s Ethics of Aerospace Advancements and Multivariable Calculus classes matched up perfectly on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so they met at the Engineering library on the loudest floor and studied. Except, midterms were coming up and Peter’s focus was shot. Harley, of course, was unaffected by the stress.  _ Frick you, Harls. _ Currently, his partner was going through Quizlet’s rapid fire, not missing a question while Peter sat on the floor, leaning against his knee. Peter had taped five different colored strings to his Advanced Genetics textbook, tying them together to make a friendship bracelet. One was already complete, the ace pride colors adorning his wrist. He was halfway done with Harley’s. 

Harley reached down as he pulled up his next flashcard set, fiddling with the completed bracelet around Peter’s wrist. 

Peter beamed up at him. Harley didn’t notice.  _ Rude. _ He jostled his hand loose to continue tying, causing Harley to place a kiss on his forehead.  _ Rude, _ he mentally repeated, smiling despite himself. 

“You making me a promise ring, Pete?”

“Yeah.”

The second kiss was better than the first. 

***

Peter was always cute, but somehow oversized sweaters and shuffling feet increased his already adorable traits tenfold. And Harley really needed to finish these notes.  _ Dang it. _ “Alright, hit me.” He tried to sound upset, but the smile crept into his voice. 

“I made you a Spotify playlist," Peter admitted, crossing into their room and flopping onto the bed. 

Harley bit his lip. **_Dang it._** “What for?”

Peter turned onto his side, moving Harley’s textbook out of his way. “Or like, not  _ for  _ you, but about you.” Harley watched him. “Okay, not like intentionally. But I was making a happy playlist and then it ended up being only about you.”

“You’re a sap.”  _ So are you, Harley. _

“And?”

_ He got you there.  _ “Alright. What percentage of it are musicals?”  _ If it’s more than fifty... _

“Forty.” 

_ Good.  _ “Good.” 

“Want to listen?” Peter asked excitedly, already pulling out his phone. 

Harley glanced to his discarded notes. “Yeah,” he smiled. 

***

“Let’s get married,” Peter mumbled drowsily into Harley’s chest as the credits rolled. Their couch wasn’t the best place to fall asleep, but his limbs were dead and Harley was warm.  _ Love you,  _ Peter thought absently, running his fingers through Harley’s hair. 

“Okay,” Harley agreed, equally exhausted. Senior year was a kick in the pants. 

“Yay,” Peter breathed, draping himself further over Harley. He felt his partner run a hand over Peter’s back, tightening his hold just before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (last hour of) Pride Month! 
> 
> Although they never say it, Harley and Peter are in a QPR!


End file.
